


Solangelo headcanons

by nicostolemybones (fatherlords)



Series: headcanons ideas and not quite fics [3]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: M/M, but I like my writing in one place so I can see my improvement, like months old, mental health tw, these are old
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-26 10:08:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21372400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatherlords/pseuds/nicostolemybones
Summary: Headcanons I wrote ages ago but never posted, but am now posting because I want all my writing in one placeI do not give permission for my work to appear on any apps nor do I consent to my work being reposted anywhere. If you see my work outside of my tumblr or outside of any blogs/accounts I mention in my fics, please report/contact them or inform me. If you report them, do not report as if it were your own work.My tumblr is @nicohasahappymealI originally posted these on @nicohasadoctorsnote which is a blog I no longer use
Relationships: Nico di Angelo/Will Solace
Series: headcanons ideas and not quite fics [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1642357
Comments: 2
Kudos: 64





	1. Nico

Nico is touch averse, not because he’s touch starved, but because touch overwhelms him. He gets sensory overload, which is common in people with adhd/ptsd/anxiety like Nico. Touch is one of his biggest triggers for it. Touch doesn’t always overwhelm him- it depends on the exact situation and how well he’s coping at the time. He often finds himself being hugged and touched without his consent, which makes him even more uncomfortable, especially as he’s used to personal space. He prefers to initiate any contact, or at least for people to ask before they try to ruffle his hair or hug him.

Nico is illiterate for a long time. After having his memories wiped before the Lotus, Nico was unable to remember being taught to read. And even then, he’d only learned to read Italian. In the hotel, him and Bianca didn’t need to read and write, and at the military school, they cared more for punishing poor work than they did helping people out. Even after that, he spent most of his time training or talking to ghosts. English isn’t Nico’s first language, and his dyslexia is severe. Because of this, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t read, and he’d get frustrated. He’d feel ashamed of himself for being a teenager and not being able to read.

Nico gets sensory overload more common than he’d care to admit, although he has no idea why. It often leads to panic attacks, and he finds himself struggling to focus, overwhelmed by the intensity of everything around him, causing him distress to the point he’s unable to process his surroundings. He usually shadow travels to his cabin and lays on the floor on his back with his eyes closed, breathing away his distress until he’s light headed. It can take him a while to recover enough to function again. Sometimes when he’s anxious, he struggles to speak, and the words won’t form, so he either gives up, or he forces the words out.

Nico struggles a lot with his adhd and focusing, especially when people are talking. He often misses what they say, or it doesn’t seem to process, or he gets distracted by random thoughts or random objects. He’ll play with his skull ring, bounce his leg, and if he’s able to, he’ll throw a stress ball between his hands. He finds it helps him to focus and not get distracted so much. Other times, he’ll focus so much he doesn’t realise hours have passed, or he won’t notice himself getting tired during training until his legs are shaking and his knees buckle.

His encounter with Cupid didn’t help him to accept his sexuality, nor did it give him confidence. In fact, it made him feel more ashamed of himself and abnormal. He’d been singled out purely because Cupid knew he was ashamed of his sexuality, he’d ridiculed him, picked his weakest moment and forcibly, violently outed him, but he made Nico say the words himself. Nico could barely look at Jason, because he wasn’t supposed to know. He couldn’t look at Jason without remembering being outed. Nico felt like a coward for not telling everybody, for running away, for being held back by traumatic memories and fear of rejection and hate crimes. Sometimes people forgot that Nico wasn’t a stranger to seeing people being shamed in the papers, being beaten and shot by the military in front of children, being paraded with a pink triangle on their chests, spat on, killed, starved to death, experimented on, castrated.

Coming out to Percy was painful. He regretted it instantly, and every time Percy would approach him, try to talk to him, he’d brace himself for an attack, just like he’d expected from Jason. It took a while before Nico realised Percy accepted it. Percy even apologised for not noticing sooner, for not being able to help, for being the cause of so much pain. They talked it through, and despite it being awkward for a while, Percy became somebody he could trust, and Annabeth became a close friend too.

Coming out to Will was the first time Nico didn’t feel obliged to say anything. It was the first time he wasn’t scared that he’d be hurt, and it was the first time he felt secure knowing that Will would accept him. It still took him a while to say the words, that he was gay, and he still panicked about how it would affect their friendship. Will came out as bisexual to Nico, and the two became closer as friends. Nico finally wasn’t alone. Finally, somebody understood how hard it could be to accept yourself when the environment you grew up in wasn’t tolerant.

Coming out to his father was worse than being outed by Cupid- or at least, it felt worse at first. Nico was terrified- he could be sent back to Tartarus in a matter of seconds. He could have the full force of all the undead horrors unleashed upon him. He could be mauled by Cerberus, disowned, abandoned, anything. Especially given how his father had looked at him when he’d helped Percy, like he was covered in sewerage, like he was disgusting. But he figured that his father would find out eventually, and he’d rather be in control of how. When Nico finally told his dad, shaking in terror and braced for an attack, he was surprised when his father adopted a calm, soothing tone, and told him that he’d known for a few years, and that he supported him. Nico broke down, crying in relief, but also feeling the full force of years of panic and self hate. They talked long into the night, and Hades introduced Nico to some demigods and mortals he’d known who weren’t straight, even Achilles himself. It turned out several gods, especially Apollo, weren’t straight. And Nico saw people just like him in Elysium. For once, he truly believed it when he was told that there was nothing wrong about how he felt.

And so Nico finally decided to trust Jason, taking him up on his word to talk about it. He didn’t open up to him about everything to start with. He started by just telling Jason that he was sure he was gay, that he liked boys, not girls. And Jason had told him that he supported him, that it changed nothing. And slowly, he began to talk about how he used to feel for Percy, and about his growing feelings for Will. He didn’t tell Jason that Will was bisexual- supportive friend or not, it’s never okay to out somebody. And Jason gave surprisingly good advice, and Nico slowly realised he was becoming more confident in his sexuality. He didn’t feel the same pit of shame and disgust as he used to.

When Nico and Will did start to date, it took a little work to get used to the change in dynamic. Will was naturally a very tactile and affectionate person, and whilst Nico was affectionate, he was still touch averse. They found themselves talking about boundaries a lot, far more than they found themselves doing stereotypical couple stuff. But talking about boundaries and what was and wasn’t okay meant that they avoided miscommunication, avoided any uncomfortable situations and avoided rushing into things. It made them a healthy couple, because any time there was something that the other wasn’t comfortable with, they’d discuss it properly.

Public dates were still an issue. They did go out in public together, and Nico wanted to do so- but he was always hypervigilant, always far too aware of anything and everything, every person, every voice, every movement, focus stretched few and far between every last detail, constantly flinching at the slightest contact or sudden noise, waiting for an attack. He found himself becoming increasingly paranoid and increasingly anxious, until everything, the noise, the lights, the air movement, the crowds, the temperature, everything overwhelmed him. He’d find himself not noticing when Will was talking to him, and then he’d find himself having to ask Will multiple times to repeat what he said, because no matter how much he tried to focus on what Will was saying, he’d find Will at the end of his sentence looking at him expectantly or worriedly.

Nico didn’t learn to read in school or with a teacher. In fact, he didn’t realise he was being taught to read at all. Will had been the one to notice, but he gathered that Nico seemed to be frustrated and angry at his illiteracy. So during an overnight stay in the infirmary, Will sat besides Nico and started to read a book out loud, following with his finger. He didn’t hide it when he skipped a word, lost focus, or when he misread a word, or had to spell out each syllable a few times before he could say the word confidently. Nico asked him about it quietly, and Will explained that his dyslexia was also on the more severe side compared to other demigods. Nico talked about how the letters would seem to rearrange themselves, how it looked like the page was moving, and Will explained how for him, he could see the words as they were, but his brain didn’t seem to automatically link them phonetically, how he had to make the effort to figure out each word letter by letter still. They continued to sit and read together in the Hades cabin, and it wasn’t until Will read a word wrong and Nico corrected him that Nico realised he’d been reading along with Will in his head, that he could understand the words now, all because of Will reading aloud and pointing as he did so. Nico admitted that he hadn’t known how to read, and Will admitted that it was why he started to read to Nico. They never stopped reading to each other in the evenings.

Nico’s depression wasn’t constant. It was far from mild, but he wasn’t always at crisis point. Some days, he’d feel okay. In fact, some days, he’d be unable to stop laughing, hands moving wildly as he talked, slipping into Italian without realising, bouncing around like a small excitable child. Sometimes it would hit suddenly, like a punch in the gut, a sudden drop in the pit of his stomach that made his smile drop, that made his shoulders tense up and hunch, that made him look to the floor, or stare into space dissociating. Sometimes it would creep up on him so slowly he wouldn’t notice how bad it was until he was woken up in the middle of the night to be told it was midday, that he’d been in his cabin for two weeks, and his hair would be one unbrushed knot. If Will was there, he’d sit and gently pull apart the knots with his fingers and a hairbrush, but it would take up to five hours, Nico on the verge of tears from the overstimulation on his scalp and the nauseating, enduring pain it caused as the knots were removed. Will would go over Nico’s face with a washcloth whilst convincing him to shower and eat, trying to find clean clothes for him to wear. And sometimes Nico would cry, because he just wanted to sleep, because he didn’t feel like this when he was asleep. He couldn’t find it in him to smile when they held hands or cuddled, but Will understood.

Nico had ptsd. And it manifested most in nightmares, so real and vivid he could never distinguish them from reality. It manifested in flashbacks, where suddenly he’d be trapped in a repeating memory, over and over again, like it was happening right then and there, and when he came around back to reality, he’d be so disorientated, nauseated, the aftermath of each memory as fresh as ever. His nightmares would be so bad when he woke from a few, he’d wish he could fade into the shadows, so he didn’t have to suffer anymore. He’d avoid sleep, and other times he couldn’t sleep no matter how hard he tried. He’d wake up so paranoid of the shadows he wouldn’t move so much as a finger, lying there for sometimes hours until it was light, until it no longer felt like if he moved he’d be dragged into Tartarus, petrified of the dark. He’d sometimes be aware of every agonising second, and sometimes he would have no idea how long he’d lay there motionless until he somehow found himself sitting on the shower floor, a spare change of clothes by the side, and he’d wash and change into them, and Will would be in his cabin stripping his bed of soiled sheets, gently telling him that no, Nico, it’s not Thursday, it’s Monday. Firework displays stopped after that, and Will moved into the Hades cabin. Nico would pass out, feel too sick to eat much more than toast, and after every incident where Nico lapsed on self care, or dissociated for a long time, it would take a while to get everything back to normal again, to get him able to eat a full portion or train without passing out.

Nico was happy. He smiled, he laughed, he told jokes, joined in the campfire songs, and cuddled with Will or Hazel. He wasn’t healed. His mental health problems hadn’t gone away, and he was far from healthy. He had a friends, family, a home, and he had a boyfriend who had seen him at his worst and still held him in his arms and told him he loved him. Nico was content with his life. He was accepting his limitations, his vulnerabilities, accepting help rather than isolating himself. Whilst he had been ostracised, he’d come to see that a fair portion of it was also on him- he’d pushed people away a lot too. And he’d made progress, learned when he needed help, learned to admit when he could do with a friend to talk to.

His relationship with Will wasn’t one sided. The comforting and the taking care of each other was mutual. Sometimes Nico would find Will sitting in the infirmary alone on the floor, equipment strewn across the floor, and Will would be covered in blood, still in his scrubs, pulling at his hair and scratching at his face, pulling on his teeth and hitting himself around the head, hysterically crying, far from the laid back combat medic everybody knew him as, far from the ray of sunshine and positivity he had to pretend to be all the time. And Will wouldn’t let anybody help him, he’d scream over Nico’s words, until eventually he’d be hysterically explaining how he lost a patient, how he felt like a murderer, smearing the blood over himself as if to prove he had blood on his hands. He’d hysterically cry about his own death as though he was going to die any minute now, and he’d beg Nico to hold him and never let go, and Nico didn’t care about the blood. He’d hold him, and he’d tell him about all the places he’d been in the underworld, from the Styx to Persephone’s gardens, to his room in his palace. Once Will was calm and coherent, Nico would help him to wash the blood off, bandage any injuries Will had picked up during the meltdown. Sometimes Nico would have to tell Will some of the things he’d said or done whilst in that state. And Nico would go to the underworld when Will was okay, and he’d find the recently lost demigod. He’d return to Will and tell him they were in Elysium, that they were thankful. He’d remind Will of all the demigods he’d saved, he’d point out all the scars they had that Will had stitched up, from Annabeth’s shoulder, Nico’s werewolf scars, to Paolo’s arms, and he’d often find Will staring at all the scars, because they were proof he’d saved them. He’d remind Will of all the parents who would get to see their children again because Will had saved them. He promised Will, swore on the Styx, that when Will died, He’d stay in the Underworld, and they’d stay in Hades’s palace together, that it would be okay, and Will would live a long, happy, healthy life, that death wasn’t the end. Nico would summon ghosts as proof for Will that he’d never lose himself to death.

Nico grew more confident as he healed mentally. He’d come a long way since he was forced out of the closet, and now he wore a small pride pin on his aviator jacket some days. He was in control of displaying it, of being open about his sexuality. He began to understand how it felt to be proud of who you are. He slowly found himself more and more capable of coping with the fear of being attacked, instead glaring at anybody who dared to stare, pushing down the fear, and he began to walk with confidence. He felt more than happy to hold Will’s hand in public or kiss his cheek, to hug him or let Will surprise him by jumping on his back for a piggy back. Nico didn’t mind kissing Will softly on the lips in public- nothing intense, but Nico wasn’t ashamed. He was still afraid, but he figured it wouldn’t make a difference if he was affectionate or not- a homophobe is a homophobe no matter what you do. And he was tired of hiding in the shadows.

Nico was healthy. It had been years since the war, years since he had his first kiss in the strawberry fields with Will. He looked at photographs of his younger teenage self, pale and broken behind the eyes. He put his hand next to the picture of himself, comparing the pale sickly teenage figure to his healthy olive skin. He looked at all the pictures, a family in both camps. He settled into Will’s arms- he never did move back out of the Hades cabin, and the rings on their fingers told Nico that it had been the right decision. They’d head to the training arena in the morning, and Will would have lollipops from the infirmary for the younger campers. Will would watch Percy and Nico teach the younger demigods how to use a sword, motivating campers who lacked confidence, reassuring them that they were doing well. He also spent a fair amount of his time staring at Nico and blushing, but hey, he was allowed to now. After training and a break, they’d head to the infirmary for the start of Will’s shift, and Nico would help out however he could, dealing with minor injuries, alerting Will when a patient was close to death, glaring at Thanatos when Will was still trying to save them. They’d lead the campfire songs and laugh together with their friends. People would ask how Hazel was Nico’s sister, and Nico would say that not all families were as simple as one mom and one dad. Will would smile and laugh with all of their friends, and Nico would always ask Will to dance. They’d stay out late past the camper’s bedtime to talk with the other older campers, or to look at the stars. The Huntress was visible most nights, and Nico could swear the stars glowed brighter when he mentioned Bianca. They’d head back to the cabin and talk about their feelings, hold each other close. They’d always tell each other how much they loved each other before bed, and the lights would be left on. Sometimes one of them would have a nightmare, or slip into a depressive episode, or overwork themselves. But they could cope. They were happy together. Some nights, Hazel would babysit little Bianca and Michael-Lee, their daughter and their son, so the two could look after each other, or enjoy the time to themselves without a child present. Nico would always tell little Bianca about Bianca the Huntress, and Will would tell Michael-Lee all about his brave brothers. Family had never meant so much.


	2. Will

Will is a very tactile person, because growing up it was just him and his mom. His dad wasn’t around and Will didn’t have many friends, he was always different, always hiding some part of him, and the only comfort he’d have was his mom’s hugs, holding her hand when out in the streets, the way she’d ruffle his hair or rest her hand on the back of his neck and pull their foreheads together. Touch was how affection was shown, not kind words or gestures, and touch healed- it made him feel loved, less alone, and Will’s touch could heal wounds. Then he arrived at camp and he was alone. Will became well loved around camp, because he’d always hug new campers, he’d always pat people’s shoulder when they did something good, or rest a supportive hand on somebody’s back.

Despite his intelligence, Will didn’t do well in school before he arrived at camp. His dyslexia meant that he was a fair bit behind the class in terms of his reading age and his writing abilities, often failing most of his exams. On top of his dyslexia, his ADHD often became a barrier to his learning, often finding himself unable to maintain his focus no matter how hard he tried. He became easily frustrated when he couldn’t focus, or when he couldn’t read a word because of his dyslexia. He’d refuse to do any more work or storm out of the class. Before Will was diagnosed with ADHD, he was typecast as a problem child, getting chastised for losing his focus in class. Will also found it incredibly difficult to settle down, especially after break time, so he’d bounce in his seat a lot and hit his equipment on the edge of the table loudly, unable to diffuse all the energy he seemed to have. He’d often miss what a teacher said to him, especially if they didn’t use his name when talking to him, until he was always getting yelled at for not paying attention and being a lazy, disruptive child. Will became an all year round camper early on- he never reached middle school.

Will didn’t want to go back home once he got used to not having his mom around- because for once, if Will couldn’t focus in a class at camp, everybody understood. They’d take breaks when needed, and if Will got frustrated and walked out, they’d give him space before they talked to him, and helped him to work through whatever issue he was having. Being around other people with ADHD made him feel normal. He wasn’t treated like a naughty child or an attention seeker, he was treated like a normal kid. Of course, symptoms between campers varied greatly, but all of them understood the same cluster of struggles, so Will, for the first time, had people he could relate to. When it came to learning about healing, Will would find himself excelling. They didn’t write much in demigod classes- they’d say the answers out loud, sit around a table and discuss things, and soon people began to see just how intelligent Will was- finally, his classroom environment fit his individual needs. 

Will hyperfixates in the infirmary a lot. He’s been known to work for over twenty four hours at a time, completely losing himself in the knowledge and the practicality; there’s always something for him to do with his hands, a way to diffuse his energy. As a result of spending so much time there, everything he does seems effortless and fluid- he appears perfectly relaxed. In reality, his focus is flitting between all the different symptoms and treatments, piecing together pieces of knowledge quickly, and his attention is divided perfectly between tasks. He’s less bouncy, because his job is very hands on- he’s always on his feet and always busy, not sitting behind a desk. He can focus on his job for hours and hours, not realising he should take a break. Sometimes he won’t realise he’s overworking himself until he passes out asleep filling out paperwork or until one of his siblings points out he hasn’t showered in a few days. 

Will isn’t always happy. He’s not had it easy simply because he’s never been on major quests or because he’s not much of a fighter. Losing two brothers so close together thrust him into grief and responsibility at an age where such responsibility is near impossible to take on in a healthy way, whilst dealing with the trauma of fighting and healing in two wars. Will is calm under pressure, calm when he’s busy, calm when everything around him is chaotic. It’s become an instinct, it’s become his coping mechanism. He doesn’t have any time to think about his fears when his attention and judgment is needed to save lives. He doesn’t know how to explain it. He thrived under pressure, kept his cool, radiated calm even on the battlefield. Because pressure allowed him to numb his own feelings- he had a duty, and he always had a solution- when it came to being a combat medic, everything was a think fast, life or death situation, and the knowledge always came to him so easily. It was routine, even a new wound was routine, practiced, following instructions imprinted in his mind, following instincts. When he was under pressure, he wasn’t able to think about his own fears or insecurities or trauma- there was no room for it. His attention would be perfectly divided between quick and accurate clinical observation, quick diagnosis, prognosis, treatment, comforting the sick and wounded, assessing who had to be a priority and paying attention to his surroundings. There were so many things to pay attention to it allowed him leeway when he couldn’t focus on one thing at a time, because he could jump between pieces of knowledge, between patients, between keeping everybody safe and healthy. He always had something to do, whether it involved holding in somebody’s intestines or re-wrapping a bandage. He’d learned anatomy the traditional way- observing dissections. He’d gotten accustomed to the feeling of all the different tissues, the smells, the feel of blood under his hands. He thrived under the pressure of being a combat medic- he could keep calm, because he didn’t have to think about others.

With his own thoughts, it wasn’t so easy. Because he could control his choices as a medic, but he couldn’t control his thoughts, and they jumped around all the time, keeping him agitated, on edge, because they changed so fast, from the excitement of spending time with Nico to the deep scars he’d acquired, to how close to death he’d seen Nico, how easily he could lose him, death, all the deaths, all the blood on his hands he still scrubbed off until his hands were red and his nails were bleeding, all those he couldn’t save, and oh gods, he was going to die one day, one day it would be him in agony, scared, cold, the sound of the death rattle ringing through his mind, because gods that was the worst part of losing a patient, that choked, drowning final breath out, because that was the point he would be ripped away from them, and gods, one day he’d be the person lying on the floor, desperately pleading for somebody to save him, and at some point, his healer would walk away, decide it was enough, he was gone, oh gods, why did it ever have to be too late, why did anybody have to die, why couldn’t he keep trying, why couldn’t he save them, he shouldn’t have let his colleagues drag him away from the patients, because what if he could have brought them back, what if he’d given up when it wasn’t too late, he was a murderer, their blood was on his hands, oh god, the blood-

So Will wasn’t always happy or calm. Existential panic set in so suddenly sometimes, triggered usually by the loss of a patient, but the biggest trigger was seeing his own blood, which could happen easily on a battlefield or in training, so he avoided training. But sometimes he’d prick himself on a needle, or bite his nails down too far, and it would hit him suddenly, so quickly it was nauseating and disorientating, because that was his blood, his blood that was meant to be in his body, and his heart would be going too fast and he’d find himself suddenly unable to breathe properly, feeling like he was choking from the lump in his throat, and his stomach would twist and he’d be trying not to vomit, and he’d be convinced he was about to die because his heart wouldn’t just be going fast- it felt like one of his ribs had a spike sticking into his heart, the sharp pain pulsating with each beat- rationality was long passed, and he’d be completely floored by the sudden onset of panic, and the terrifying pain in his chest and the terrifying dizziness and nausea from his laboured breathing. He’d scream and he’d lash out, kick things over, hit things, trying to diffuse his distress, he’d tug at his hair and scratch down his face because his face would feel hot and it felt like it needed to come off, like his face would explode if he didn’t rip it off right now. He’d feel his pulse in his teeth, and he’d have the sudden urge to pull them out, unable to stop thinking about it until he’d grasp at his bottom teeth and tug at them, but thankfully the pain would overwhelm him before he could do any serious damage, and the longer he panicked for, the more he felt like he wasn’t there, like everything was fuzzy and he was on a cloud dead observing, like he wasn’t doing anything and he’d completely lose track of time, lose the ability to remember what he was doing, and he’d find himself sitting on the floor with a clump of hair in his hand, blood behind his nails, or he’d be in Nico’s arms, or back in his cabin somehow.

Will was good at pretending to be calm for the most part. Will wrapped and unwrapped a bandage around his fingers, his hand, in all the ways he knew how. As if holding together broken fingers, as if keeping a dislocated thumb in place, as if treating a sprain, covering a burn. He looked at the infirmary, all of the patients, all of the tasks that needed doing- of course, they all had injuries, he could distract himself, he could help them, make up for the blood on his hands by helping them. He’d assess the visible injuries, pushing aside his own panic, ignoring his racing pulse and elevated blood pressure. And he’d lose himself to his work, choosing to take on as much work as he could. He’d find himself slipping back into well-rehearsed rhythm, enjoying his work and distracting himself from the near constant nausea of anxiety.

Long after the normal grieving period was over, Will still found himself feeling the same. He still found himself on the verge of tears sometimes, still found himself forcing himself to get up of a morning. Some days, he felt so numb, like a zombie, brain fog taking over, not quite dissociating but not fully in his own headspace. He’d feel like he was in a warm room observing and feeling through his body, his routine was automatic, he was always on autopilot. He’d always manage to smile, to laugh and joke, to boss people around like he’d gotten used to doing to maintain control over his infirmary and stubborn patients. But the more his depression gripped him, the less energetic and hyper he was. He struggled to find the motivation to go to breakfast, to go for his morning run, and he’d struggle to find the motivation to get dressed, so he’d pick up whatever was closest. So his clothes were rarely coordinated, and of course, everybody laughed at his bad fashion sense, commented on him wearing shorts, flip flops, his camp shirt, and a flannel in the infirmary in the middle of winter, how it must be an apollo kid thing- he was a dorky nerd with zero fashion sense who was always so calm and so happy he radiated sunshine. The older campers- those who survived at least, who had known Will when he came to camp, a bright ball of energy- they noticed the change and they could see that he wasn’t coping, that this wasn’t who he was. But most people only saw the mask Will wore- he was calm, warm, affectionate, stubborn, and happy. 

Will no longer wanted to stay at camp because he could fit in and he felt happy and accepted. Will was now scared to go home. For a few years now, since he’d started to mature into a teenager, Will had thought about his sexuality almost every day, questioning it, trying to figure out. He felt the same around pretty girls as he did around handsome boys. Maybe, he thought, it was just how people felt around friends? Because how he felt for boys wasn’t all that different to how he felt for girls, so maybe he was just confused? Maybe he was straight? Or gay? Will didn’t know what bisexual meant, at first, so it took him a long time to figure out his sexuality and his feelings. Sexuality was rarely talked about- you were assumed straight. Gay people seemed to be people from a mythical rainbow land who were born with an encyclopaedic knowledge of terms, no need to teach about them. Or, at least, that’s how it felt people treated it. Teenagers didn’t talk about it, adults would seem awkward if the topic was brought up. It wasn’t something to be talked about, so it was something Will was truly alone in. Eventually, Will accepted within himself that he was bisexual, and he accepted himself. He grew up in a kind home, a loving one where he’d never been made to feel ashamed of anything, so accepting himself was second nature. Will wasn’t necessarily scared of what his mom would think about his sexuality- he was scared of everybody else. Texas was a very big place, with a wide variety of people- but the neighbourhood Will had grown up in was one where the confederate flag was displayed boldly in the windows of houses. Will wasn’t stereotypically masculine- he had the feeling they’d take one look at him and decide he was gay and that would be it.

The first person Will came out to was Nico. He hadn’t expected them to become friends at all, but Nico knew Will inside out. Will had friends- Lou-Ellen, Cecil, Jake, and people he talked to a lot in the infirmary, but they were for fun. They were the friends he’d play cards with or laugh with. Nico was the person he could cry in front of. Nico understood Will because Nico could recognise the broken expression, he could understand when Will would space out. He understood that Will’s calm mannerisms were rather the effects of mental fatigue. He knew the panic Will fought with, and Nico knew what night terrors felt like. So when Nico told Will that he was gay, Will told him that he was bisexual, and he desperately tried to explain what it meant, but Nico accepted him easily. Nico wasn’t poisoned by stereotypes- he had a limited knowledge and common sense. Will having the potential to be attracted to boys and girls obviously would have no impact on his morality and loyalty. It baffled Nico how people could think such horrible stereotypes, except it didn’t, because Nico understood better than anyone the stigma of not being heterosexual. 

For a while, Will didn’t tell anybody else about his sexuality- and especially not his definitely-more-than-a-crush on Nico. He slowly gained confidence as Nico made progress accepting himself. It was Will who finally gathered the courage to ask Nico out- part of Will’s Apollo child abilities included the ability to diagnose at touch, to know heart rate, blood pressure, everything like a gut instinct. And he’d started to notice, as the two friends became more tactile, that Nico’s heart would beat faster, he’d get flustered. And it explained why Nico was so comfortable yet so awkward around Will. So Will asked him if he’d like to be his boyfriend whilst lying in the strawberry fields, and Nico had melted into a blushing mess. After talking for a while and clarifying their feelings, Nico took Will’s hand and admitted that the idea of having a boyfriend was still a lot for him to take in, and he asked if they could take things slowly. Will agreed, and they talked for a long time, setting boundaries and discussing their feelings for each other. They didn’t need to say they loved each other- it was too soon to say it for either of them to feel comfortable, and they both knew it deep down anyways. After then, Will didn’t feel the need to hide his sexuality, so when it came up, Will would be honest and despite the anxiety that would push its way to the surface every time he told people, he’d act casual about it. 

Will was the one who initiated their first kiss. It wasn’t spectacular, it wasn’t passionate, it wasn’t anything more than an innocent moment between the two, sat in the strawberry fields again. They’d been laughing and joking, and Nico was more comfortable with physical contact, often seeking Will’s hand to thread their fingers together, resting his head on Will’s shoulder. They were sitting close, talking about their relationship again, if anything had changed, talking about any problems- it was early days, it wasn’t going to be perfect yet. And they’d sat there, leaning back on their hands looking at the stars, and Will was enthralled with how beautiful Nico looked under the moonlight and the sunset. He hadn’t planned to say it, but softly, quietly, the words escaped his lips: “would you be okay with it if I kissed you, Nico?” And Nico had blushed deeply, sitting forwards and hiding his face in his hands before looking up at Will with a grin, like he was excited, and nodded, blushing even deeper and looking away. Will kissed him softly on the lips, just pressing his lips to Nico’s, and neither boy had ever felt quite so alive. Nico seemed to momentarily stop functioning, grinning and blushing, burying his face in Will’s chest. They fell asleep like that under the stars. Nico initiated kisses a lot more after that. 

Nico looked after Will throughout the years. He was the only person who knew about Will’s self doubts, about his depression, his anxiety, about his infirmary meltdowns. Nico would remind Will to take a break, to get some water, to take a shower. He’d remind him to take care of himself. He’d hold Will close and tell him that he loved him, he’d list all the things he loved about him, trace Will’s freckles with his fingers. Nico would kiss him softly, gently, with such care and affection that Will melted every time. Will moved into the Hades cabin after a particularly loud and spontaneous fireworks display- Nico had insisted he was okay, that he just needed space, that he’d find Will when he was ready- and shadow travelled. But that was Thursday, and by the Monday, Will was concerned. He expected to find Nico’s cabin empty, given the fact there’d been no reply, but instead he found Nico lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, completely unresponsive. The room was a mess, and Will realised that Nico had been triggered by the fireworks, had a huge panic, flashbacks, and now Nico was completely dissociated. Will helped him out of bed, but Nico still seemed absent. Will had to help him out of soiled clothes, put him in the shower, and clear up the cabin for him. When Nico was finally aware of his surroundings, and Will told him it was Monday, Nico eventually explained that he’d had flashbacks. He was able to vaguely recall going to sleep and having a nightmare, but he couldn’t understand how he’d just… lay there, in bed, not moving, for several days, because there’s no way he’d purposely lie there and not get up for the bathroom or for a shower or food or even water. Will explained how dissociation could be caused by trauma, that there was nothing to be ashamed of, plenty of demigods had trauma- although Nico’s catatonic state concerned Will; he never wanted Nico to be in that state again, so he moved into the Hades cabin, so if Nico ever dissociated so badly again, Will could take care of him.

Will smiled again because of Nico. As the years went by, Will regained his confidence, his energy. He’d spontaneously run at people- usually Nico- for a piggy back. He’d laugh a musical laugh, he’d bounce in his seat, fidget with anything he could find, he’d smile enthusiastically and he’d found his passion for knowledge and to help people- medicine was no longer a toxic coping mechanism to avoid dealing with his mental health, it was something he enjoyed. Nico helped him to deal with his existential crises, and Nico helped him to recover by supporting him, making sure Will kept on top of his self-care, looking after him though his meltdowns. Camp Halfblood was his home, their home. Marrying Nico and starting a family, adopting two children, helping to mentor campers- it was never going to be any other life. They stayed in the Hades cabin, kept memories stored in decorative boxes, photographs on the walls and drawings too. They were in perfect sync, harmonious, a perfect understanding of each other. They bantered all the time, occasionally bickered, but they never had arguments or rows or fights- they talked, just like they always had, always told each other they loved each other before bed, told Bianca and Michael-Lee bedtime stories- they’d read to them short stories they’d wrote, happy, fun memories, no monsters. 

Will no longer feared death- Hades had a place for Will waiting in his palace. In fact, they stayed there some nights, because it was quieter than camp, and Will liked to see Nico playing with Cerberus the family three headed dog, Will liked to say hello to all the campers he couldn’t save who were so grateful for his help, and he liked to see Nico’s face light up as he told Hades about everything that happened since the last visit. Other times, they’d visit Apollo, who would always recite obscene Haikus, take them out in the sun chariot- which the kids loved. He still wouldn’t let Nico drive- which was probably a good thing since Nico would probably drive like a maniac and Will suffered with motion sickness. Will brought Nico home to meet his mother, their children too. It had been a while, and although it took Naomi completely by surprise to see her son after well over a decade, apparently in a homosexual marriage with two children, she instantly hugged him and refused to let go. When Will pointed out that Nico was there too, she hugged him too, and the kids were in the middle of the family hug. They stayed for a few weeks every year from then on, often visiting at the weekends.


End file.
